At Great Cost
by musewars
Summary: Magic always comes with a price, the Blue Fairy had told them. Yet no one could have predicted just what that would mean. Spoilers for "Selfless, Brave and True".


He wakes up screaming.

Instinctually August's face burrows deeper into the pillow as if the fluffy fabric could offer him protection. The effort is to no avail. The searing burn is forever stored into his brain, too engulfing even in memory for him to escape. So he screams, allowing tears as he thrashes away whatever blankets once covered him.

Even covered by the fabric August's eyes sense light invading the room. He stiffens the latest sob just as the mattress on which he lies shifts, indicating someone else has sat onto it. Large hands rub his back.

"Shh... shh... easy," a male voice says gently. August swallows before lifting his face towards the sound. Seeming to take it as a cue, a familiar figure slides back slightly so the younger man can turn over. "It's alright. It's alright. It's over now."

August feels himself relax only a moment before confusion takes hold."Marco?"

The older man offers a small smile. "That is no way to address your father, young man."

"But… how…" He blinks again and rubs his eyes. His voice sounds strange to him - thinner. Fuzziness fills his head. August wills himself to focus. The curse, how he had turned to wood… A trailer and…

Wood. He is supposed to be wood. But... August looks down at his arms, yet finds flesh. He begins to pinch at it, bringing pain and the knowledge it is real. He lifts his pant leg and finds that it, too, is flesh. Still he pinches and pulls.

"Stop! Stop right now!" Marco has grabbed his hands. August blinks.

"But…" How can he explain? August tries to grab hold, to pull his mind together, yet it brings with it pain. He closes his eyes again and finds more flashes. A trailer. A girl. An offer and-. "I've done- something terrible- I need to tell…"

"I know." There's no condensation in his father's words. A heaviness, yes, but only acknowledgment.

Pieces suddenly click.

"Emma! She needs to know-" Know what? It hurts, yet he tries to remember. Pain. Falling. A wave of something… "I- I can't remember. I failed you. I wasn't-"

Marco pulls him closer. At first August fights it, yet slowly finds himself buried. He feels so small, much smaller than normal, sinking too far and deep to handle. None of it makes any sense, giving way to fear, one more fierce and domineering than he has ever experienced before.

"What did I do?" he asks weakly.

"Shh… it's alright." August pulls away slightly. His brow furrows, looking towards the older man. He lets out a shaky breath. It feels wrong, so very wrong, yet here, his father's arms around him, he also feels safe.

August closes his eyes. So tired… Still the grain of doubt takes hold, and he hears it speak in the back of his mind. _Something's different. You're missing something…_

"I don't- something's wrong…"

"It's okay."

"You keep saying that."

"Yes, I do."

"But I-"

"My boy, look at me," Marco says. August does. His father looks so worn, so… sad, yet determined all at once. "You have done nothing which has not been forgiven. You are my son. Nothing you have done or will do will ever make me stop loving you."

August frowns, then swallows. A yawn escapes then, taking with it his remaining questions. He feels the fuzziness taking over again, and this time he chooses not to fight it. He doesn't have the strength. Yet part of him doesn't want it to, wants to fight…

"Come, back to sleep." With a slight groan Marco stands again. He watches August settle back under the blankets.

_You're missing something…_ that thought returns. "It's- slipping away…"

"I'll be here when it does. I'm not going anywhere."

What does that mean? He wants to ask, but only a yawn comes as August opens his mouth again. So tired… And on he drifts back to slumber.

The creak of floorboards draws him awake again. He opens his eyes and sees a figure at the doorway, a familiar face looking towards him.

"M-m-" He sits up again, one hand rubbing his eyes sleepily. His mind is full of haze. He blinks, once, twice, and then tries again. "Papa?"

"It's alright," his father says from the doorway. "Just a nightmare. Back to sleep."

Pinocchio lays back down as his father shuts the door.

[-]

It isn't quite opening time yet Ruby greets them with a smile anyway. They always come to the diner before opening. It's a habit Marco formed long ago; for all the culinary skills he has acquired, somehow breakfast foods still elude him.

"Good morning, Ruby," Marco says as cheerfully as he can. Ruby nods, her face smiling back yet her eyes questioning. She knows. Marco has always been an open book when it comes to his boy. Still the young woman kneels before his son.

"Hey, buddy," she says gently. "I bet Chris has some pancakes already going back there. Better make sure he remembers the chocolate chips this time."

Pinocchio doesn't miss a beat in heading off towards the kitchen. Marco removes his jacket and takes a seat at the usual booth while Ruby grabs the coffee pot.

"One of those nights?" Marco nods. Ruby steals a glance towards the young boy who is now chatting with the cook. "Does he remember anything more?"

Marco takes a sip of his coffee. "Pieces." A hand goes up to rub his forehead. "Always the bad ones."

Ruby nods. How thankful he is for her. Archie is gone, the Charmings are wrapped in their own dealings, and the Blue Fairy, she keeps her distance now. Her spell had saved his boy and for that he was more grateful than worlds could ever express.

Marco had always wondered since the dark curse broke what had happened to his boy. As he searched, he repeated the promise given as the wardrobe door closed. It will be alright. We will be together again. Weeks later, holding the wooden form of August in his arms Marco thought all lost, until magic gave him renewed hope. Another chance.

Yet that night, the nightmares began; or what were thought only nightmares. Soon he realized the truth.

"The price of magic," the Blue Fairy had whispered when Marco told her what was happening. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

"But how much will he remember?" he had pleaded. "How can we fix this? I'll do anything, please."

She had no answer for him.

"Ruby?" The pair of adults turn. "Have you ever seen lemurs?"

"Lemurs?" she asks back, her eyes darting towards Marco. He stiffens, a feeling of weariness taking hold at the familiarity of his boy's words.

"Uh huh. " Pinocchio tilts his head. "They're little animals and they have these eyes that reflect light so at night it looks like they glow."

Ruby looks towards Marco again, yet he has nothing to offer. Finally she responds. "Sounds pretty cool, kid. Sorry to say I haven't seen them myself."

Pinocchio 's face furrows. Marco grips the coffee cup tighter. It's beginning to cloud over the boy's face; confusion and guilt, anger… He is much too sincere and intense for a boy his age.

_His age_... In the best of moments it is so easy to forget that behind the little boy face is a man. Then the spell weans, bringing out everything. Yes he's Pinocchio, but he's August too, not the same boy they all remember.

Pinocchio blinks and the moment is gone. He goes back to chatting with the cook.

Marco sighs. All magic comes with a price they say; this is theirs. Maybe relief will come eventually. Perhaps it never will.

He feels a hand squeezing his. Marco looks up and finds Ruby looking back. He gives her a grateful smile; tight-lipped, yet grateful. Indeed he is grateful. Whatever lies ahead, they will push through. And while not the most comforting of thoughts, it is what gets him through each day.


End file.
